Station Square
by sour gummies
Summary: So it has come to this: a Sonic the Hedgehog High School AU. Well, plus a middle school, and an elementary school. The stories of a band of misplaced children living in a group home in the big city, plus a number of colorful individuals who weave in and out of their lives. Not as mundane as you might expect. Featuring characters from SEGA/Sonic X/SatAM/Underground and others.
1. First Day

**A/N:** Forgive me. The first chapter of this isn't even properly a high school AU. It's junior high.

And if that wasn't enough to scare you right off, Chris Thorndyke is in it. SOMEBODY STOP ME.

(Also, a note on the "Eyecatch Card" section at the bottom of each chapter: NATIONALITY refers to the country/place a character comes from within _this_ story. ORIGIN is the canon I am taking them from, though _not_ necessarily the canon in which they first appeared. This distinction really only applies to characters like Charmy, who date back to really obscure places like manga, or cameos in other games. For characters who appear in multiple canons, I will always use SEGA incarnations, when applicable.)

**CHAPTER TITLE:** First Day  
**CHARACTER(S):** Chris, Amy, Tails

**NEXT WEEK: **Fun with crayons!

* * *

Chris knew the first day of school was probably a little early to be making any kind of snap judgments, but by lunchtime, he was already feeling more hopeful about the coming year than he had the entire summer.

For one, despite everyone's warnings that junior high would be a lot tougher than middle school, all his new teachers seemed pretty nice so far—even Mr. Stewart, the somewhat eccentric man who taught Chris's homeroom. For another, while districting complications had separated Chris from most of his buddies at his old school, he'd been fortunate enough to make one new friend already, Amy Rose, a fellow sixth-grader whose last name had placed her right next to Chris for the morning classes when they were seated alphabetically.

Amy, a petite girl with shocking pink highlights and a red dress, stood out from the other kids in their class like a sore thumb, not least because she approached the world around her (Chris included) with a cheerful, upbeat attitude that was matched only by the swiftness of her temper. Apparently, Amy had something of a fearful reputation already, given the number of students who had attended elementary and middle school alongside her and were already spreading the word that it was generally a terrible idea to be on her bad side.

Amy's companionship came with the added bonus of having someone around who could effortlessly cow into submission the whispering masses that had been indiscreetly following Chris's every movement since he'd stepped onto the school grounds: mainly curious students and teachers, who seemed to just magically appear once they caught wind of the fact that the son of Nelson and Linsey Thorndyke was walking among them like an ordinary person.

That sort of attention wasn't anything new for him, but sometimes, Chris still wanted to shout at them that he _was_ an ordinary person. Just because his mom was an an actress and his dad ran a big computer company didn't mean he was anything special. People were always looking at him like they were waiting for something incredible, as though he was expected to do something to match up to his famous parents. It was a lot of pressure for a twelve-year-old to handle.

Amy, luckily, was prepared to help out in any way she could—as Chris found out yet again when he went to meet her by her locker for lunch like they'd promised before second period. She said she wanted to introduce him to another friend.

"Make way, coming through!" she yelled, dragging him by the hand through the crowded halls of the junior high building. Anyone unlucky enough to get caught in her warpath was unceremoniously sent flying, or slammed against the locker rows like weightless rag dolls instead of sixth- and seventh-grade students. "Sheesh, is it always so crowded in here?"

"Uh, maybe," Chris managed, throwing a few apologetic glances behind him to her unfortunate victims, many of whom still seemed too stunned to comprehend what had happened. "Thanks for helping to keep all those people off my back today, Amy. It really helped me out."

"No problem!" she replied with a smile, letting go of his arm as they stepped into the lunchroom side by side. "Oooh, people like that make me so mad! The second they hear any old name that sounds like someone famous, they all turn into a bunch of screeching, mindless harpies!"

Chris wasn't sure what to say to that, but he was spared the trouble when a new voice piped up from behind them.

"You mean like how _you_ get whenever someone brings up Sonic, Amy?"

Instinctively, Chris turned to look to the speaker, but Amy's reaction was more immediate. "Sonic?" she cried loudly, whipping around as one hand flew up to her heart. "Who said what about Sonic? Where's—oh. It's _you_."

Her voice abruptly lost its elated quality when she caught sight of the person who had spoken—a short, sandy-haired boy with bright blue eyes, dressed simply in jeans and a polo shirt but wearing a white-and-yellow sweatshirt tied around his waist from the back. Chris thought the kid looked far too young to be in the junior high building, probably no more than eight or nine years old. Had he somehow wandered in from the elementary school across the street?

Amy seemed to know the boy, though. "Tails, you big jerk!" she said, loudly and dramatically, folding her arms over her chest with a glare that could melt steel. "I _told_ you to stop doing that!"

Chris, who still wasn't quite used to the girl's abrupt mood changes, instinctively edged away, but the kid called 'Tails' only shook his head slowly in a long-suffering sort of way. "But you _just_ said..."

"That's completely different!" Amy said haughtily. "I was only talking about people who go gaga over someone because they have a famous name. I love _Sonic_ because he's strong and courageous and a hero and my soulmate and—"

"Amy," the boy said wearily.

"—so _fast_ and unbelievably handsome and—oh, hang on a second!" she said, rounding on Chris and pointing at the new boy. "Chris, this is my friend I was telling you about! His name is Miles Prower, but everyone just calls him Tails. He's a real-live genius! He just turned eight years old but he's already in the eighth grade!"

"Wow, that's incredible!" Chris said, reaching out with a smile to shake the kid's hand. "Nice to meet you, Miles—uh, Tails. I'm Chris. Hey, um, if you don't mind me asking, what's with the nickname?"

The kid grinned sheepishly and motioned toward the arms of his fluffly sweatshirt. "Miss Vanilla used to have to tie it backward on me so I didn't forget to take it to school," he said. "Everyone said it looked like I had two tails when I was running, so they called me Tails."

"Oh. Who's Miss Vanilla?" Chris asked, as they all sat down together at an empty table with their lunch bags. Amy spoke up before Tails could.

"She's the lady who runs the group home a few blocks down from here," Amy said. "You know, for kids who are between houses, or who've lost their families and stuff. She and her daughter are the nicest people you'll ever meet."

She said all this in the same chatty sort of tone other people might use to talk about the weather. Chris, however, went wide-eyed as the meaning of her words sunk in.

"Group home? You—You don't have a family?" Chris blurted out without thinking to Tails. Immediately, he realized how insensitive a question this was, and tried frantically to backtrack in compensation. "W-Wait! I didn't mean—that was really rude, I'm so sorry—"

"Don't worry about it," Tails and Amy said at the same time, like they were used to fielding this question.

"We're both orphans, actually," Amy explained, for some reason sounding apologetic, though not particularly upset. "Well, as far as we know, at least. It's kind of a long story. We've been on our own for as long as we can remember, but Miss Vanilla's been taking care of us the past few years. We live at her house with a bunch of other kids like us."

"Including Sonic," Tails chimed in, arranging his very practical-looking lunch into groups of sliced meats, cheeses, and vegetables. "Not that it makes Amy any less crazy over him."

"Because he's never there!" she shrieked indignantly. "He keeps running away whenever he feels like it!"

Tails winced. "Yeah, I've been trying to talk to him about that..."

"Well, you should talk louder then!"

From a distance, Chris doubted anyone watching the bickering unfolding before him would have known that the two students were talking about anything close to what life was like without having any families. He suddenly felt quite horrible for complaining to Amy about his _own_ parents. He wondered if being on her own for so long was the reason Amy was so fearless, not to mention relentlessly optimistic.

Chris also wondered about the boy they were talking about, some upperclassman from the adjoining high school—Sonic, they'd said. Tails spoke very highly of him, like the two were close, and obviously Amy was head over heels for the guy. What might he be like? Chris doubted he would ever meet him, but he had to admit he was at least a little curious.

Either way, it seemed like Christopher Thorndyke was in for a very interesting year...

* * *

**EYECATCH CARD #1  
**

**NAME:** Christopher Thorndyke  
**ORIGIN:** _Sonic X_  
**AGE:** 12  
**EDUCATION:** Station Square Junior High  
**GRADE** **LEVEL:** Sixth  
**NATIONALITY:** United Federation  
**TRAITS:** Shy but friendly and courageous. Will do anything for a friend. Can be obsessive about those close to his heart.  
**TRIVIA:** Fears subconsciously that his famous parents will one day forget him and leave for good.

* * *

******EYECATCH CARD #2**

**NAME:** Amy Rose  
******ORIGIN**: SEGA  
**AGE:** 12  
**EDUCATION:** Station Square Junior High  
**GRADE** **LEVEL: **Sixth  
**NATIONALITY:** Eggman Islands  
**TRAITS: **Bubbly and friendly, with a bit of a temper. Believes in the power of love! Her heart forever belongs to Sonic.  
**TRIVIA:** Claims to be a tarot card reader. This ability allows her to divine the location of people or lost items.

* * *

******EYECATCH CARD #3**

**NAME:** Miles "Tails" Prower  
******ORIGIN**: SEGA  
**AGE:** 8  
**EDUCATION:** Station Square Junior High  
**GRADE** **LEVEL: **Eighth  
**NATIONALITY:** Eggman Islands  
**TRAITS:** Kindhearted, slightly naive. Always helpful to others. Recognizes others' faults, but doesn't hold it against them.**  
TRIVIA: **He is a child prodigy, with a mechanical genius to match Dr. Eggman's.**  
**


	2. Families

**A/N:** To answer the question reader RoTheBomb left in a review for last chapter, yes, all characters pulled from games or other continuities may be assumed to be human here. (Small animals like flickies and chao may be present as we know them, though.)

**CHAPTER TITLE:** Families  
**CHARACTER(S):** Cream, Charmy

**NEXT WEEK: **Mighty just wanted to get some work done. Why is the afternoon full of insufferable teen girls AND insufferable teen ninjas?

* * *

"Can you pass me the yellow crayon, please?" Cream asked politely, glancing expectantly at the boy sitting next to her.

Charmy seemed too absorbed in his drawing to hear her. "Yeah! So that's one...two...four..." he was muttering to himself as he carelessly colored away, nose held about an inch away from the paper in front of him. Pausing, he pulled back a bit from the table only to frown at his scribbled picture. "Aw, I forgot someone!"

"Excuse me," Cream said again, tapping the boy very lightly on the shoulder to get his attention. "Since you're using the green crayon right now, may I have the yellow one?"

He finally turned to stare at her, honey-colored eyes uncomprehending. "But that one's mine!" he said loudly, as though it was obvious.

"But the teacher told us to share," Cream said patiently. She was already six years old and in the first grade now, so she'd been doing her very best to sit quietly and pay attention to the teacher all day, like a good girl.

Charmy, on the other hand—easily the smallest child in the class, who sat next to Cream at the round table—had been very naughty and disruptive since the early morning, shouting loudly and arguing with the teacher whenever he didn't want to do something. Cream thought it was a bad way for him to start off the whole school year. Wouldn't his parents be upset if he got in trouble?

She though Charmy might argue with her more over the crayon, but instead, he stuck his tongue out and tossed it irreverently at her head. "Fine! You can have it!" he said excitedly, knocking a half a dozen more off the table and onto the floor in his haste to pick up a dark brown one. "Not like I even needed it anyway!"

"Thank you very much," said Cream, being polite as her mother had taught her despite the fact that he was throwing things. She craned her neck over a bit to see what Charmy was drawing. "Are all those people your family?"

"Huuuuh?" he glanced away from his picture and looked at Cream like she was crazy. "No way!"

"But isn't that what we're supposed to be drawing?" she said.

"Is it?" the boy asked, obviously perplexed. "I don't remember the lady saying that!"

"Our teacher said we're supposed to use the crayons to draw a picture of our family," Cream reminded him helpfully, holding up the picture she had drawn of herself standing next to her mother, along with Amy, Tails, and most of the other kids who lived with them in front of their house. "See? This is me and this is my mommy. Those other people are—"

"Boring, boring!" Charmy shrieked. "How come you live with so many people, huh? If they all lived at MY house, Vector would go crazy! Well, even crazier."

"Oh...is Vector your brother?"

"Eww, no!" Charmy said. He shook his head so fast that the big goggles on his too-large helmet came sliding down over his head, mussing his glossy black hair. "That'd be weird_. _Vector's my boss! He owns the house we live in!"

"Your boss?" Cream asked, not certain she understood. She knew that Amy and Tails and the other children who lived with her in her mom's house sometimes weren't exactly her brothers and sisters, but that didn't sound like what Charmy meant. Wasn't he too young to have a job? "Does your family work for him?"

"Nope! Just me 'n Espio!" Charmy proclaimed, sounding quite proud of himself. "We're the Chaotix Detective Agency! We never turn down work that pays!"

He sounded excited about this, but Cream thought working for a man like Vector didn't sound like very much fun. She enjoyed playing much more.

"So, you live with Mister Vector and Espio..."

"Yeah!"

"...But they aren't your family?"

"Uh-huh."

"Then, are they your legal guardians?" Cream knew better than most girls her age that some children only had family connections through documents instead of by blood—and some kids had no families at all. "Or, are they your foster parents, or temporary caretakers?"

Charmy was still looking at her like she was crazy. "What? No! I didn't say that!" he yelled, practically rising out of his seat in his exasperation. "They're just Vector and Espio!"

Cream gave up trying to figure it out. Besides, there was something else she wanted to ask Charmy about. "My mommy says that everyone should have a nice place to live, even if they don't have any money or a family," she said to him. "Doesn't Mister Vector think that too?"

"Nope! That's against our policy!" Charmy said, speaking quickly in rehearsed tones that made it seem like he'd heard and repeated the same words countless times before. "Vector says we've all gotta work to make rent! That's why the three of us are always waiting for jobs to come in." He grinned at Cream, obviously enjoying the attention he was getting. "'If you don't work, you're outta the house!' That's Vector's rule. Otherwise, we can't run a business!"

Cream might have asked him some more questions about that, but by the time Charmy was done speaking, his loud shouting had finally brought their teacher running over to scold him. The two of them were strictly instructed to keep their eyes on their own papers as they worked.

Turning back to her picture, Cream absentmindedly pondered as she colored about how fortunate she and the other children were at her house, not to have to work all the time just for the privilege to stay. She would have to thank her mother for that later...

If Cream had looked over at Charmy's drawing again, she might have noticed him scribbling a brown-haired boy that was very similar to one she'd drawn already on her own paper. But Cream was a good girl. For the rest of the class period, she minded her own work diligently as she'd been told. Whenever Charmy tried to talk to her, she hushed him and reminded him gently to be quiet.

She didn't think anything more about their strange conversation for the rest of the day.

* * *

**EYECATCH CARD #4**

**NAME:** Cream  
******ORIGIN**: SEGA  
**AGE:** 6  
**EDUCATION:** Station Square Elementary  
**GRADE** **LEVEL:** First  
**NATIONALITY:** United Federation  
**TRAITS:** Very polite and considerate for her age. Unfortunately, very honest as well. Wants everyone to have families and people who love them.  
**TRIVIA:** Her best friend is Cheese the chao.

* * *

**EYECATCH CARD #5**

**NAME:** Charmy Bee  
******ORIGIN**: SEGA  
**AGE:** 6  
**EDUCATION:** Station Square Elementary  
**GRADE** **LEVEL: **First  
**NATIONALITY:** Eggman Islands (?)  
**TRAITS: **Simpleminded, hyperactive, sometimes rude. Annoying, never stops talking. Hates to be serious. Loves attention, flowers, his job.  
**TRIVIA:** Very lucky, with a knack for finding important things, which is why Vector keeps him around.


	3. Unplanned Reunion

**A/N:** I've done a poor job of hiding it, but yes, this story apparently has a plot. Of sorts. I suppose we're getting into that this chapter. I promise I'll do my best to balance both dramatic, story-driven chapters and those filled with the inane school shenanigans you're actually here for.

Just for the record, **I am not using any OCs in this story. **Ray the Flying Squirrel IS a SEGA character, whose only appearance was in _SegaSonic the Hedgehog _for the arcade. Ray doesn't actually appear in this chapter, so he doesn't get an Eyecatch Card, but he is mentioned a fair bit.

**CHAPTER TITLE:** Unplanned Reunion  
**CHARACTER(S):** Mighty, Espio

**NEXT WEEK: **Just who is this 'Ruby Nails'? For that matter, who is Mister Stewart?**  
**

* * *

After their final classes let out at Station Square Central at 3.30 PM, Tails and Amy departed together for home, trailing after Sonic's dust as usual. Mighty waved them off and went straight up to the school's computer lab at the final bell, refusing to waste any time standing around. He had work that needed to be done, work he hadn't made much headway on during the summer. Vanilla was a good caretaker, Mighty had to admit, but it was rather inconvenient for him that there was no computer back at her house.

He had been counting on the school PCs being somewhat less of a pain to use than the ones at the public library, given the closer distance to the house and lack of need for reservations. He _hadn't_ been counting on a clique of gossiping students deciding to hang around in the lab after class, comparing notes on how the first day of school had gone and who they had seen.

Their words drifted over to Mighty from the other side of the lab, embarrassingly loud and impossible to ignore.

"—That new girl? The one with the white hair? Gosh, isn't she pretty? I had her in my criminology elective third period and everyone was saying—"

"—well yeah, I know, but did you see what she was wearing? I can't believe none of the teachers called her out on it! If _I_ tried to—"

"—just crazy, the more you hear about it. So does anybody know yet why she's just now coming to this school? Was it a thing where her family moved districts, or was there some kind of incident somewhere else? Senior year is a little late to be transferring to a whole new high school, don't you think?"

"Oh, yeah. Something _had_ to have happened..."

Thanks to the wall-to-wall chatter, despite staying at the lab a full hour and a half Mighty didn't get much more done than set up an account on the student computer network and confirm that no new e-mail alerts had gone out on his highlighted searches in the police database.

He knew he could hardly be upset with the girls for talking amongst themselves, especially since he was too quiet and nonconfrontational to ever ask them directly to leave or keep it down. But still. The thought of _finally_ having some time alone to do his research this afternoon was the only thing that had kept Mighty going during his classes today, and now he couldn't even concentrate with all the talking going on. Soon enough, he even found _himself_ wondering about the new girl who had joined in the senior class—what had been her name again? Rudy? Ruby? Either way, his his mind wasn't anywhere near his work.

At the point where he realized he was listening more to what the girls were saying than actually reading what he'd pulled up on the screen from the latest missing person reports, Mighty decided it was time to call it quits and start again tomorrow. Maybe in the morning, he'd come in early to the lab instead of staying late after class. He loved sleeping in as much as the next guy, but this was important. He'd been putting it off far too long already.

After all, Ray wasn't going to find himself.

—

Mighty's backpack weighed as heavy as his thoughts as exited the building and began the walk home. And to think, just this morning, he'd been genuinely considering that it might be worthwhile to stick it out in school for another year. Between Vanilla's endless encouragements and Amy's hopeful words, Mighty had almost deluded himself into thinking he might not completely despise everything about his junior year of high school.

But one day back in class again was enough to bring all his doubts to the surface. He was so tired of being forced to do unimportant assignments and paying lip service to a bunch of abstract lessons he didn't need, all of which had nothing to do with surviving the real world. Why did anyone need to solve pages of algebra problems, when most of the students in his class would have no idea how to handle themselves in a true life-or-death situation? When there were whole regions of the world that hadn't been explored yet by human beings? When places like the Eggman Islands endured so much suffering every day?

"Maybe I should've dropped out when I had the chance," he muttered angrily to no one, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

Without skipping a beat, no one answered right back: "Well, I _did_ tell you."

Mighty started, whirling around. Where two seconds ago there had been nothing save for a large palm tree swaying innocently by the sidewalk behind him, a boy near Mighty's age now leaned against the trunk by his shoulders, giving off an air of deceptive nonchalance.

Mighty's wide-eyed stare look turned to an expression of incredulity as recognition sank in. "Espio?"

A curt nod answered him. "It's good to see you, old friend," Espio said quietly.

For a moment Mighty could only stare at him. Espio had grown in the years since they'd seen each other. He still had the same hard face and sharp, angular features, vaguely Asian (Japanese?) in appearance, but a great deal had changed as well from what Mighty remembered. The other teen's hair was the same style it had been before, but cropped a bit closer to his face, and dyed a much brighter shade of shocking fuchsia. His once-black eyes now shone a bright, unnatural yellow, almost certainly achieved with colored contact lenses. Espio was taller now too, skinny but wiry, the last traces of his old baby fat replaced with ripcord muscles from head to toe. His clothes were mostly plain, but trimmed with a number of eye-catching accessories like a pair of heavy-looking metal gauntlets that were strapped over his gloved wrists.

In short: Espio looked _cool_.

Suddenly feeling self-conscious about his own wrinkled T-shirt and jeans, Mighty belatedly realized that the other boy was waiting for him to respond. "Uh, not that it isn't great to see you or anything, Espio...but what are you doing here?" he finally asked. Last he'd heard, Espio (and, in turn, the rest of the Chaotix sans Knuckles) were situated somewhere in the Central City area—on the occasions he'd been in touch, Espio hadn't been very forthcoming on the details, always hinting in his e-mails at some unknown danger that might arise from revealing too much information.

A surprise visit was just about the last thing Mighty had expected from him.

"I came here to find you," Espio said simply, leaving the tree to come stand at his side. "We've relocated our detective agency to this area, so I thought I might like to track down an old friend and say hello. The Chaotix just bought a house outside the city, at the edge of the jungle. Please forgive me if my visit was an unwelcome surprise."

"Unwelcome, no," Mighty said, awkwardly running a hand through his long brown hair. If he'd thought Espio's rigid manner of speaking had been odd when they were twelve, it had nothing on the way it sounded _now_, coming from a guy who looked like he'd just stepped off the cover of a punk-rock magazine. "But, yeah, definitely a surprise."

Despite his words, they easily fell into step beside one another on the sidewalk like old times, neither particularly caring about their destination. Mighty's mind buzzed distractedly with dozens of questions, which had been building up over the past four years since he'd last seen Espio in person. The sporadic e-mails they'd exchanged every few months couldn't have possibly have communicated all that Mighty wanted to know. He hardly even knew where to begin. With a guilty pang, he suddenly remembered Vanilla reminding everyone at the house last night to be home by dinnertime, when they'd be welcoming an housemate coming to visit. If Mighty went off with Espio now, he knew he wouldn't be back for hours, however long it took to catch up. But this was important. The others would understand.

He decided to start with something simple. "Just how did you know where to find me, anyway?" he asked, giving Espio a sidelong glance as they walked—even now, it was a little hard to believe his friend was really here. "I know I told you some stuff about Vanilla's place, and Station Square, but I never gave you an address."

Espio's only response was a distinctly unimpressed look. Mighty sighed.

"Right, right. The detective thing," he said, shaking his head. "I keep forgetting you have _other_ hobbies, besides being a crazy ninja."

Espio stopped walking at once. "My detective work is no hobby," he said gravely, in a sharp voice that would only sound as much to someone who knew him well.

Then, he disappeared.

For a second Mighty didn't even register what had happened. Then he gaped, dumbstruck, at the empty space where his friend had been standing a moment before. He looked around, glancing behind him, around the serene palm trees nearby and the empty suburban lawns. There was no sign of Espio, as though the other boy had simply vanished into thin air or turned invisible. "Where—?"

Then, without warning, a hard shove caught Mighty from behind. Yelping, he tumbled forward onto the sidewalk, landing hard enough to lightly scrape the skin of his palms beneath his gloves. He scrambled wildly a moment on all fours, only to find Espio standing over him in plain sight on the pavement. The teen wore a toothy smirk that was much too Vector-like for Mighty's comfort. Maybe they were starting to wear off on one another.

"I would like to add that I take my ninja training _very_ seriously as well," Espio said, his tone almost teasing. But not quite.

Mighty stood up shakily with a breathless laugh, putting up his hands in a mock sign of surrender. Someone like Knuckles or Amy might instinctively want to retaliate in his position, but he wasn't one to start big fights over small slights. He and Espio knew each other too well for him to not know a joke when he saw one. "You know, I never understand how you do that," he said.

"Lots of practice." Espio smirked.

Mighty snorted. "Well, _some_ of us still have to go to school during the day."

"And whose fault is that?" Espio asked, as they proceeded to walk again. "I dropped out the day I turned sixteen—that's the Federation limit. Vector made me wait till it was legal. For appearances' sake, I guess."

"I know, I got your e-mail. You don't regret it?"

"Of course not," Espio snorted. "I wasn't learning anything I hadn't already known for years. As soon as I turn eighteen, I'll get my GED and be done with it. You should have done the same."

"It does sound pretty nice when you say it," Mighty admitted, stuffing his hands awkwardly into his jean pockets. "I really thought about dropping, toward the end of last year."

"Why didn't you?"

"Well, there was Vanilla, and Rosy—she goes by Amy now, by the way. Really _everyone_ wanted me to stay. They all seemed to think it was important for my future, or whatever."

"Hmph. Sonic said that?"

"Well, no, not Sonic," Mighty admitted. "Obviously. But pretty much everyone else."

Espio's gaze hardened. "Forget them. Your future should be your own decision, not theirs," he said with conviction.

Mighty smiled wryly. He didn't know much about Espio's past (which was no accident, given the other boy's natural inclination toward secrecy), but he had surmised that his family must have been _insanely_ strict when he was growing up. To drive someone like Espio, who had more discipline than anyone his age Mighty knew, to run away at age twelve in a fit of full-on adolescent rebellion was no small feat.

"Thanks," Mighty told him now, meaning it.

Espio nodded. "You could always join us," he offered. "The Chaotix would be happy to have you back. Charmy asks about you."

"Still? I'm surprised he remembers." Mighty shook his head. "And thanks, but no thanks. I don't mean you guys any offense, but you tend to attract a lot of trouble, know what I'm saying? I've had enough of that to last me a lifetime."

"I guess you have earned the right to some peace," Espio admitted begrudgingly.

"It's not even living at the home that gets me," Mighty continued. "Vanilla's been great, better than I could have asked for. Aside from the school stuff. But I'm just sick of being stuck in one place, you know? It used to be, I could just go wherever I wanted to without anyone telling me to stay put. That's not an option anymore. There's stuff I need to take care of that I can't do here."

Espio said nothing, but his gaze was instantly sympathetic. "Still looking for Ray?"

"He has to be on the mainland by now," Mighty said all at once in a rush, willing himself to believe the words. "You guys looked all over the islands and didn't find a trace. _Someone_ would have seen him in six years, right? He had to have come over on the ships like everyone else. It's not impossible. It _isn't_."

For a moment, Espio remained silent, probably considering his words. "If he is anywhere, it would be the United Federation," he finally said.

Mighty let himself relax a bit. "And you guys are still looking too, right?" he asked anxiously, looking closely at his friend. "I know you never met the kid, but you've seen the pictures. He'd be about ten or eleven now. I swear I can pay you—"

"We wouldn't take money for this," Espio said quietly. "I know he meant a lot to you."

"He was like my brother," Mighty said, shoulders sagging. "And I just left him behind."

"No, Mighty. You didn't. And you've been looking."

"Looking? Not really," Mighty said with a humorless laugh. "I can search the internet all I want, but I'm not going to find much, with just a first name and old pictures to go by..."

"There's a database with the names of the people who came over—"

"They don't list minors," Mighty said, cutting him off. "Trust me, I checked. Don't know why they even bother, considering most of the refugees are kids to begin with. And hundreds of people slip through the cracks every year. Both of us nearly did."

"There are other ways of finding out," Espio said.

"I know. But you guys are the detectives. Not me," Mighty said glumly. "All I can really do is sit around and hope that someone will hear something. I can't stand it—not knowing, I mean. If I left to go look in other cities, at least it might feel like I was doing something. Having to live with Sonic and Tails of all people is like rubbing salt in the wound."

"They've always been pretty close," Espio said quietly.

"Yeah. It's not like it's their fault or anything, but—you know?" Mighty said, shaking his head. Suddenly he perked up, remembering something. "Speaking of Sonic—can I tell him and the others that you guys are in town? No one's heard from Knuckles or anything, but I know they'd want to see you, too."

Espio considered, then slowly shook his head. "I've got nothing against Sonic and his friends, but we're trying to keep a low profile at the moment outside of our regular casework," he told Mighty. "I probably shouldn't tell you this, but the Chaotix actually moved to Station Square on the trail of an investigation that could be exceedingly dangerous." He lowered his voice and leaned in conspiratorially. "The fewer people involved, the better. You understand."

Mighty did. Even after so many years, he was far too used to Espio's paranoid tendencies to feel more than the barest twinge of anxiety at his words. "Well, you told _me_," Mighty reminded him, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

"That's different. We're teammates," Espio said defensively. "At least, we were."

Mighty chuckled. Same old Espio. "Well then, _teammate_, want to go get some dinner?" he asked with a grin, jerking a thumb in the direction of downtown. "I happen to know of a really great diner near the train station. I want to hear all about what it's like to live in the madhouse with Vector and Charmy..."

Espio nodded curtly at him, ever serious. "Roger that, Mighty," he said solemnly, falling into step beside him again. "Lead the way."

* * *

**EYECATCH CARD #6**

**NAME:** Mighty  
******ORIGIN**: SEGA  
**AGE:** 16  
**EDUCATION:** Station Square High School  
**GRADE** **LEVEL:** Junior  
**NATIONALITY:** Eggman Islands  
**TRAITS:** Peace-loving and hates to fight. Avoids trouble, to the point of laziness. Loves travel and has a hard time staying in one place. Tries not to get attached to others.  
**TRIVIA: **Much stronger physically than he appears.

* * *

**EYECATCH CARD #7**

**NAME:** Espio  
******ORIGIN**: SEGA  
**AGE:** 16  
**EDUCATION:** N/A  
**GRADE** **LEVEL:** Sophomore before dropped  
**NATIONALITY:** Eggman Islands  
**TRAITS:** Disciplined about training and work, laid-back about everything else. Arrogant, vain, very proud of his ninja abilities. Paranoid, secretive, and suspicious of others. Fanatically loyal to Vector and defers to his orders even when it's a bad idea.  
**TRIVIA:** Holds a personal vendetta against Dr. Eggman.


	4. Two-Faced Cards

**A/N:** I'm already considering rewriting most of Bunnie's dialogue because it is a _pain_ to get her speech patterns just right without making her seem like an idiot. (Which she isn't, obviously, though she has her faults like everyone else).

Three guesses who 'Ruby' really is, and what canon she's from! ...On second thought, no, I take that back; if it takes you three guesses before the reveal I am revoking your fandom license.

**CHAPTER TITLE:** Two-Faced Cards  
**CHARACTER(S):** Ruby?, Bunnie

**NEXT WEEK: **Every sixteen-year-old girl has her problems, but very few of them have to deal with terrible drivers, street hoodlums, AND Antoine D'Coolette's relationship woes in a single night. Also most sixteen-year-old girls aren't deposed princesses of fallen monarchies, but then Sally could never have it easy.

* * *

School had been an absolute breeze. Then again, Ruby had never doubted it would be. After so much careful preparation and work, her first day at Station Square Central High was finally complete, and already she had half the school's student population practically eating out of the palm of her hand. Those students remaining—the females, namely—didn't seem to have quite caught onto her charms just yet, but Ruby had no doubt in her mind that they soon would. She'd win them over in due time. If there was one thing she was good at (untrue, of course, because Ruby was good at pretty much everything she tried), it would be winning.

She _knew_ she would be a natural at high school!

In fact—as if the universe needed any more evidence of her overwhelming charms—Ruby found herself being trailed after her last class, unsolicited, by one chatty little hanger-on in particular who seemed to have decided they were friends. Ruby might even have been flattered by Bunnie's persistence, too...if the unfortunate creature weren't so damn _annoying_.

"...and oh gosh, do ya think he was bein' serious about quizzin' us every week from those book lessons?" Bunnie fretted, sea-green eyes wide with fear. She anxiously twisted of her one long brown pigtails in both hands, seemingly unaware of her own actions. "The _last_ time ah took this class, we only had one test every quarter, and that was enough to fail me right out! Ah can fix any ol' car engine, or washing machine, Ruby-girl, but ah'm no good with computers. It's all Ancient Apototian to me..."

"Mm-hm. Oh, yes, terrible," Ruby drawled boredly, sitting idly beside her on one of the benches outside the auditorium. While Bunnie talked, Ruby was flipping through the pages of a graduation catalog she'd lifted from a junior boy's backpack during class, blatantly ignoring her new, self-appointed companion, who didn't seem to need any encouragement to keep right on babbling to an empty audience. While Ruby had no intention of _buying_ a class ring from the catalog, the sparkling gemstones on the paper were far more interesting than listening to the other girl's pitiful whining. Even her voice was grating.

"Oh, why'd they have'ta spring this on me my senior year?" Bunnie moaned, her accent getting worse with emotion. In a moment of weakness the girl buried her face in her hands—one brown-skinned and ordinary, the other artificial and mechanical. Both of her legs were robotic as well, and Ruby had a sneaking suspicion that beneath the girl's dangerously short, belted purple dress, at least part of her torso had been replaced with machinery as well. Bunnie's curious mechanical make-up was the reason Ruby had been willing to engage her in a conversation in the first place, though she'd quickly come to regret it. Before this afternoon, Ruby would have assumed that _anyone_ with three prosthetic limbs would automatically be a person of some interest, if only because that kind of technology had obviously originated with Dr. Robotnik and his twisted experiments.

One ten-minute conversation with Bunnie, however, had been enough to disprove Ruby's optimistic assumptions. And probably a good number of her brain cells, too. Bunnie wasn't worth her time at all.

"Ah should've taken the darn class junior year when ah had the chance, but ah was so afraid of failin' again!" the girl said, sounding near tears at this point, and still completely oblivious to Ruby's growing irritation. "This had got to be the worst first day of class ah've ever had, ah swear on my life. Ah'll never be able to concentrate on getting ready for tonight after ah get home. Ah mean, Antoine's _finally_ visiting from the embassy with Sally-girl, and here ah can't stop worrying 'bout some lousy computer course. What is wrong with me, Ruby-girl? They're both ah-_mazin_' with computers, and ah just can't seem to get the hang of it no matter how hard ah try. It's not fair!"

Ruby, who had only taken intermediate computing as a class because it was literally the easiest option on the list besides early dismissal (which she'd been denied), found herself unable to muster any sympathy for her anxious classmate. She was running dangerously short on patience as it stood: if she had to take another ten minutes of this, she'd probably lose it. She doubted anyone at Station Square would mind terribly if she did something horrible to Bunnie right here in the hallway, but it would be better not to draw any negative attention to herself if she could avoid it. Ruby figured her reputation _might_ take a hit if she up and told the kid to get lost, but it wasn't like she was going to be at this school for long anyway. She was here at Station Square Central for one reason and one reason alone, and that reason was emphatically _not_ listening to the pointless woes of Bunnie Rabbot.

But just as Ruby was opening her mouth to tell Bunnie to _can it_ and leave her alone, drifting voices from down the adjacent hallway made her pause. They were coming from the direction of the school that housed the junior high wing, and growing louder.

"Uh, that's great, Mr. Stewart, really," a red-haired boy was saying, turning the corner toward them with his hands in his pockets and his blue eyes cast down to the floor, clearly uncomfortable. He couldn't have been older than twelve or thirteen. "I guess I'll tell my mom that you're a fan."

Beside him, a young-looking blond teacher in wire glasses gave a short, awkward laugh, walking in step with his student down the hall and passing Ruby and Bunnie on the bench without so much as a backward glance.

"I'd certainly be grateful, Chris," Mr. Stewart said genially, not seeming to notice his student's obvious discomfort. "I'll certainly be looking forward to this year's parent-teacher conferences. Linsey Thorndyke is one of my all-time favorite actresses, you know—I never thought I'd have the opportunity to teach her son in my own class!"

Ruby's eyes narrowed. She'd found him.

_Perfect_ timing.

"I have to go," she said shortly to Bunnie, cutting the other girl off mid-sentence without any concern for her rudeness. She stood at once, pulling the strap of her heart-shaped backpack securely over one shoulder without tearing her narrowed gaze from the blond teacher's retreating back. "I just remembered, there's something _very_ important I have to do."

"Oh...you mean, right now?" Bunnie asked, looking nonplussed and a little hurt, as the taller girl abruptly began to walk away from her. "Well, that's fine, ah guess, Ruby-girl. Then, ah'll see you on Wednesday, or..."

She kept talking as Ruby strode away briskly from the bench and down the hallway toward the middle-school wing, but her words went unheard and ignored. The girl that Bunnie had sat next to for sixth period, shared concerns with on computer classes and house guests, Ruby Nails, might as well have been gone—disappeared, in a flash of heels and a swell of purpose.

In her place there was only Rouge: the thief, the criminal, the self-made treasure hunter, who at seventeen had no past but a dozen futures at her white-gloved fingertips with each shining brighter than the last. With chilling precision, she followed Stewart and the unsuspecting student beside him through the winding halls of Station Square, keeping her jade eyes fixed sharply on the two at all times, while making it seem like she was doing exactly the opposite.

She had to make certain of his identity, of course, but the inner part of her, the one she'd relied on when all else failed, was already quite certain that she'd found her true target, the man in the encrypted e-mails. She still knew precious little about his true identity, only the monolithic weight of his employer...but a face to put to the name was more than what she'd had before. Nothing to be ashamed of, for a day's work.

And now that Rouge had 'Mr. Stewart' on her radar, the true hunt could begin. Already, she could feel a thrill of excitement tingling beneath her skin, in her very blood.

_Thought you could hide from me, didn't you?_ she thought triumphantly to herself, inwardly glowing with pride and self-satisfaction at her early success. _Thought nobody would ever figure you out, teach? Well, you thought wrong. I'm the best there is._

Some people might call her arrogant, but Rouge didn't hold with pointless, time-wasting sentiments like modesty, which were only in place to cheat talented individuals such as herself out of the glory they rightfully deserved. She _was_ the best. When Rouge had her focus set on something; a goal, a prize, a _target_, she went after it with a single-minded devotion that eliminated everything else in the world around her besides herself and her objective.

All obstacles and impediments in her path, all reservations, doubts, fears, fell to the wayside like the useless distractions they were—put aside until the wonderful moment arrived, when she got her hands on whatever it was she'd wanted. Some prizes took longer than others, but she hadn't directly failed yet, and she didn't see how she ever could. She had too much sharp brilliance and power at her disposal. She was as perfect as a polished gemstone.

She'd been tracking her latest target, this Mr. Stewart, a long time now. A high school in the city was a far more benign place than she'd expected to end up meeting him in the flesh, but Rouge knew that he was no real teacher, just as she could hardly call herself a real student. This man codenamed Stewart, Chalkboard Charlie, countless other false names and titles, had cloaked himself in aliases over the years as a way to disguise the gun in sheep's clothing from the rest of the world. He was high enough on the ladder in his organization to be indispensable to many people in positions of great power, and he had secrets that Rouge needed—very badly—if she was ever going to truly attain the next level in this high-stakes game she'd been preparing to win her whole life.

Playing the part of a powerless student among hundreds, after so many years achieving great things on her own, was humiliating, even degrading, if Rouge was going to be honest. But she had learned long ago how important it was to _act_ the part, to bide her time and wait for the broken pieces of her victims she needed to fall into place.

Once she had Stewart fully in her grasp, she would have G.U.N. itself, and the secrets of the United Federation and countless others along with it. When she had G.U.N., she would have Eggman. And once she had Eggman, Rouge would have _everything_: all the possessions she had ever lost, and worlds more, every single treasure and automatic privilege she had ever dreamed of attaining, and others that she couldn't yet imagine.

And nothing, nothing would stop her.

She only had to stay honed and sharp and ready, like a laser-beam focused through a diamond, trained to a point so narrow that its sweeping path had the power to cut through mountains. She thought of herself quite like the diamond as well—cut at and _cut_ at for ages of time, with the sharpest materials on Earth, chipping away piece after piece from the whole until only the brilliant center remained, polished and absolutely unbreakable. After so many years, the world had hardened her too. Rouge knew that in her demeanor and appearance, she sparkled and shone just like a gemstone did, alluring and breathtakingly beautiful. It was all intentional. But the gloss of precious stones distracted far too many people from their sharpness, and their durability, which was just as important in her opinion, if not more so.

Jewels were uniquely special. They were forged both by the earth itself and human hands, producing something better than either of them. Rouge believed that people who could afford to _buy_ gems with money didn't deserve to have them. They needed someone worthy. Someone like her.

"I'll be as perfect as my precious jewels," she whispered to herself, with a faint, hidden smile, continuing to trail her targets at enough distance to keep them unaware of her. Already, the future in her mind was blossoming before her eyes, everything she knew she could accomplish if she could only reach her full potential. "All the world's treasures are mine to keep! Even if most of those people still don't know it yet. I'm going to win it all!"

Though her words were spoken too softly for anyone else to hear, Rouge couldn't hold back a hard, edged smile at what she saw next, features darkening in selfish glee. She watched Stewart wave his student off and enter his empty classroom, pulling out his phone with a terse look at the empty doorframe. He still had no idea he was being watched.

And he wouldn't find out, either, not until it was too late for him to stop her. They never did—because she never gave them the chance. She refused to make Dr. Eggman's same mistakes, reveling long enough in small victories to let the fallen recuperate and strike back. He had done well so far for what he had, altered the playing field beyond any hope for recognition, but at the end of the day men like him still only played the game for entertainment. And it _was_ entertaining, but Rouge played her part for other reasons. She wanted victory. She wanted to win. A true perfectionist would accept nothing less.

"Someday, baby," Rouge swore to herself under her breath, curling her hand into a fist so tightly that it shook. "Someday...it's all gonna be _mine!_"

* * *

**EYECATCH CARD #8**

**NAME:** Rouge (alias 'Ruby Nails')  
******ORIGIN**: SEGA  
**AGE:** 17  
**EDUCATION:** Station Square High School  
**GRADE** **LEVEL:** Senior  
**NATIONALITY:** Eastern Archipelago  
**TRAITS:** Vain, selfish, ambitious. Flirtatious. Calculating and professional, but takes care not to show it. Lives for the thrill of treasure hunting. Adores jewels above all. Ruthless without being heartless. Enjoys manipulating others, but not hurting them.  
**TRIVIA: **Committed her first theft at age 2½; first murder at 9; first jailbreak at 12.

* * *

**EYECATCH CARD #9**

******NAME:** Bunnie Rabbot**  
********ORIGIN**: SatAM**  
****AGE:** 18**  
****EDUCATION:** Station Square High School**  
****GRADE** **LEVEL:** Senior**  
****NATIONALITY:** Robotropolis**  
****TRAITS:** Friendly, affectionate, positive, loyal, brave. Easily startled, not so easily cowed or overwhelmed. Considerate, and always ready to comfort others. **  
****TRIVIA: **Went through an incredibly painful and traumatic experimental process against her will to have both legs, an arm and part of her torso replaced with mechanical parts as a young teenager.******  
**


	5. Worlds Collide

**A/N:** For readers who have been with me since earlier installments—I've EDITED the chapter titles and author's notes for each previous chapter, so that I don't have to try and fit the characters' names in titles anymore. From now on, I'll be listing all the players in a given chapter at the top as part of my author's notes. If it's a character's FIRST time to appear in the story, there'll also be an "Eyecatch card" (a la _Sonic X_) for them at the bottom with some fun extra information. Thanks for sticking with me.

**CHAPTER TITLE:** Worlds Collide  
**CHARACTER(S):** Sally Acorn, Antoine D'Coolette, Manic, Hector Dragg

**NEXT WEEK: **SEGA characters, I promise. _Promise_.

* * *

_The work of a princess is never done, Sally._

They were words to live by—NICOLE had imparted the old maxim on Sally years ago, and the phrase had stuck, though the "princess" part of it had originally been "Freedom Fighter." Sally had been the symbolic leader of the Freedom Fighters back then, always precocious for her age, despite (or perhaps because of) her royal heritage. She and the rest of the resistance had fought relentlessly, to regain from Robotnik what her father the king had lost.

But all that was in the past. Unwillingly or not, there was no changing now that Sally had left behind her being a Freedom Fighter when she and the others had fled the continent of Robotropolis for Federation territory, four long years ago. Now she was sixteen, and all she had left of that distant life was her empty title, and the weight of the responsibility that came along with it.

A responsibility which, in the absence of any sort of kingdom to return to, mainly involved paperwork on the legal end, and her own moral obligation to support her remaining people in any way that she still could...no matter how trivial it might be. The change in Sally's life was still disorienting years later, a peaceful and unconcerned life in the United Federation unfathomably different from growing up in a veritable war zone. She didn't know how people could live their entire lives here, so unaware of the horrors that lay just a short distance beyond their scenic coastline.

Glancing over at Antoine's trembling form next to her in the back seat of the car, Sally suppressed a sigh and gently reached out a hand to lay on his knee. This, at least, she could still do.

"Please, don't be so nervous, Antoine," she soothed, giving her friend an encouraging smile. "We're only going to have dinner with our good friends and their housemates. I promise you, there's nothing to be afraid of."

"S-Scared? _Moi?_ Of—Of course not!" Antoine said indignantly, the tremor in his tone belying the words. He looked much smaller than the grown, twenty-year-old man he was supposed to be. "_Non_, _non_, princess, you have 'eet all wrong! I am certainly not afraid of a leetle thing such as dinner!"

"Antoine, you're shaking like a leaf," Sally pointed out. "What's the matter? Is this about Bunnie?"

Antoine gave a startled yelp and jerked violently in his seat.

"B-Bunnie!?" Antoine stuttered, wringing his hands and glancing anywhere in the car he could to avoid meeting Sally's eyes. "_C'est ridicule_, princess! W-Why would I be zinking of _her_?"

Sally resisted the urge to roll her eyes, though she was unable to keep the corners of her mouth from twitching. It still amused her to no end, that after so many years of trying to win the princess's heart in the most exasperating ways imaginable, Antoine had _then_ gone and fallen for her best friend instead—a change that Sally had greeted with relief, once she realized Bunnie felt the same way for him.

"Call it a hunch," Sally said. "Now _relax_, Antoine. If I know Bunnie, she's probably been climbing the walls all day, waiting for us to get there. She's missed you, as much as you've missed her. I know she has."

Antoine's eyes were anxious, but his trembling lessened a bit. "R-Really? You truly believe so, princess?" he asked, the tone carrying a hint of pleading.

Despite herself, Sally felt a small prickle of annoyance at the words—Why, oh why did Antoine always have to be so needy? Why did he always need to have his hand held for every little thing?—but then she remembered herself and quickly grew ashamed. For all his cowardice and undeniably fragile nature, Antoine had always followed Sally's lead with unwavering loyalty and devotion. Fighting in the resistance had taken its toll on all them, Sally knew, but out of all the Freedom Fighters, there was little doubt that Antoine had suffered the most at Robotnik's hands. Antoine hadn't liked it, he had complained; he'd begged her and the others countless times that they all take the easy way out and flee for the mainland, wash their hands clean of the war and start over.

But he had stayed. He'd fought for her. For her father. And Sally knew she must never forget, the gratitude she owed him for that unerringly loyal service.

"She's still the same Bunnie as ever, Antoine," Sally reassured him, patting his knee. "She would never let being in a new home, or a different school, change who she is...or how she feels about you."

Sally could have sworn that she saw the ghost of a smile beginning to form on Antoine's face—but then, the two of them were suddenly interrupted by a loud, startled swear from the front of the car. Before Sally could ask the chauffeur what was wrong, the vehicle lurched violently sideways, skidding sideways along the road with enough force to nearly toss Sally and Antoine out of their seats.

Gasping, Sally felt her body jerk against the seatbelt with a painful _snap_ in an area somewhere between her neck and her left shoulder. It hurt, but not in a way that indicated anything had been strained or broken. A powerful _thunk_ shook the car, as something collided hard with the front of the vehicle. Beside her, Antoine screamed something unintelligible in French, cowering and holding his head with both hands.

Sally's Freedom Fighter instincts took over: without thinking, she reached out and seized Antoine's arm with bruising force, pulling him as close as their locked seatbelts would allow. She was in leader mode.

"NICOLE!" Sally barked, before remembering that, of course, NICOLE wasn't with her anymore. Mentally, Sally changed gears. "Officer Dragg!" she said instead, moving her free arm shakily to the back of the driver's seat, "What's going on here? What did we hit?"

The car came to a sliding stop. Heaving, the chauffeur slowly turned around to face her. Nervous sweat glistened beneath Dragg's blond hair, a bead running down his face and beneath the collar of his white Federation officer's uniform.

"Sorry about that, Princess Sally," he told her, shifting the vehicle into park and motioning toward something outside the car's tinted windows. "Some idiot _punk_ thought it would be a great idea, to just make a break for it across the street in front of me—right at the end of a yellow light! People these days have _zero_ respect, for the speed of drivers moving on the road!"

Cold fear replaced Sally's anger. "You didn't hit him, did you?" Sally demanded, finally releasing Antoine's arm to hurriedly unbuckle her seatbelt. "Why didn't you slow down at the light? You _knew_ it was turning red, you—you—if anyone has been hurt by this, I swear on my father's name...!"

"Hey, calm down, I didn't hit anybody!" Dragg said defensively. "And even if I had, I guarantee you that little punk would have deserved it. The kid was—HEY! Where do you think you're going?"

Sally had already thrown open her car door and rushed out onto the street, where several passing drivers were blaring their horns angrily at the government sedan sprawled diagonally across two lanes. The front of the car had ended up partially on the sidewalk; Dragg must have hit the curb in his haste to swerve.

The intersection was still wide enough for cars to pass on the other side. As far as Sally could tell, nobody had stopped to help.

"Oh, _man_," a weak voice groaned to her left, coming from somewhere behind the car. "What just happened?"

Sally rushed around the side of the car and found the person she was looking for. The boy was lying face-up on the sidewalk, chest heaving with shock, his arms splayed out flat on either side of him. As Sally hurried over, fearing the worst, the victim let out a tired groan and slowly sat up, leaning his weight on both arms.

"Talk about a close call," the boy muttered dazedly, seemingly to himself. Sally let out a sigh of relief she she didn't know she was holding: though he certainly looked bewildered, the boy thankfully didn't seem to be injured, or in pain.

As she watched, he blinked a few times and seemed to regain a level of awareness to his surroundings. He turned to Sally, the beginnings of confusion and worry beginning to spread over his face. "Uh-oh..." he said.

"Are you all right?" Sally interrupted, stooping to kneel at his side. "My name is Sally Acorn. That was my car that just hit you—I wasn't the driver, of course, but I still needed to make sure you're all right. Tell me, what's your name?"

The boy stared. It was easy to see why Dragg had called him a punk—the kid was in his teens, likely a few years younger than Sally going by size, and everything about him screamed 'wannabe rock star.' His hair was dyed bright green, gelled up halfway into shaggy spikes that were long enough to fall down into his black eyes in the front. His features were at least partly Asian, though not entirely, and he looked to be about the same height as Sally.

Unexpectedly, a sudden feeling of déjà vu hit her as she looked him over. Was it her, or did this boy look somehow familiar? Sally knew she had never met anyone with that style of green hair and black eyes. The boy's clothes, too, were unlike anything her friends would wear: the boy wore a black tank top, covered up partially by a loose, worn red vest; he had baggy jeans on his legs that were several sizes too large for him and ripped in several places. Around his waist, he'd looped some kind of gaudy, orange fabric belt, held in place with a cheap plastic buckle.

Sally knew she'd never met him before. But who did he remind her of?

Her victim didn't say anything for a long moment, only stared at her with a dumbfounded expression. Just as Sally was about to repeat her question, he finally spoke up.

"Oh. Uh, my name's Manic," the boy said quickly, not offering a surname. "It's nice of you to check on me, or whatever, miss, but I swear I'm all right. Your car didn't actually hit me or nuthin'. I just had to dive past it to get out of the way, it's all good."

Sally opened her mouth to sternly tell him that _No_, it was _not all good_, when she suddenly realized just who this boy had reminded her of. Putting aside the punk-rock clothes and green hair, this shaggy stranger looked—and acted—a _lot_ like Sonic. In fact, the resemblance was so stark that Sally didn't know how she could have possibly missed it before.

They both had the same mixed white and Chun-Nanese features, down to the very shape of the nose and eyes. They both wore the same white gloves, in the fashion of islanders (albeit without the spiked wristbands on Sonic's part). They spoke with nearly the same voice, or at least they would if Manic didn't have such a heavy accent...

For goodness' sake, the two of them even had similar names!

_Not to mention,_ Sally thought privately, _similarly unhelpful attitudes toward situations involving life-threatening danger!_

At any rate, she'd given up her opportunity to reprimand him. "Well, I'm glad you seem to be all right," she told Manic with a sigh, standing up and helping him get to his feet as well. "I am so sorry this had to happen. The driver should have stopped when he saw the light was yellow, not sped up! If he hadn't swerved when he did, you could have been badly hurt."

"Yeah...I guess so," Manic said, still giving Sally a slightly bewildered look, like he didn't understand why she was there. "But it's cool, miss, honest. Just a little surprised. You didn't have to stop."

"It's _Sally_, not 'miss,' and of course I had to stop!" Sally said, placing her hands on her hips. "What if you'd been hurt, and needed someone to get help? What if another car had hit you while you were on the ground?"

He shrugged. Sally opened her mouth to lecture further, struggled with herself, then closed it again. She didn't have the time or patience now to get into a philosophical argument with a stranger, especially not with Antoine and their dinner plans waiting on her to finish up. Besides, of the countless Federation citizens she'd met over the past four years, most simply didn't have the same scope of gravity as Mobians did, when it came to matters of life and death. That feeling seemed to be much the same if not worse with islanders—at least, if Sonic and his friends were any indication—and this _despite_ the fact that most of them were refugees.

Sally had no reason to assume Manic would be different.

As she watched, he glanced down at himself and tugged with sudden interest at the orange belt looped around his waist. He pulled it all the way around, revealing it to be the strap of an orange fanny pack he wore buckled over his jeans. He unzipped the pouch and dug inside it with one hand.

"Aw, man," Manic said, crestfallen, pulling out a few pieces of splintered wood. He stared down at them mournfully. "Must've landed on my drumsticks..."

"Let me buy you some new ones, then," Sally said quickly, reaching into her blue vest for her pocketbook. She did have _some_ money, even if it was from the Federation—as Sally was still technically foreign royalty, the government here had done their best to keep her comfortable during her stay. "In fact, I'd like to pay for you to have a doctor's address as well, if that's all right. May I please have your phone number? If you have insurance, I'll need that information as well."

Even as she spoke, Manic backed away, shaking his head with a rather alarmed expression. "Whoa, no, uh—Sally. You really don't need to do that," he said. "In fact, I'm just gonna go ahead and go now. I've got to be home soon anyway. My, uh, mom's expecting me for dinner..."

He shut up at the sound of footsteps coming from behind her. "Is he giving you any trouble, princess?" Officer Dragg demanded, looking at Manic with an expression of suspicion and dislike. "As far as I can see, he's fine. You don't need to waste any more time on him."

Manic's face had gone pale when he saw the officer approaching, edging behind Sally unconsciously. "_What'd_ he just call you?" he asked her nervously, elbowing her gently in the side.

Sally sighed. "Officer, please," she implored Dragg. "I'm just trying to get Manic's insurance information, so we can get him to a doctor just in case. He had to take a fall on the pavement to avoid the car."

"I'm fine," Manic insisted quickly, not taking his eyes off Dragg's white police uniform. "Really. I'm great. Just radical."

"You see, princess?" Antoine said, coming up behind the officer and reaching for her hand. "Zis boy is, how you say,_ très bien_? So, please to be coming along wit us, now...we are running very late..."

"Antoine, I just want to get his phone number first," Sally said, turning back toward where Manic was standing behind. "Please, just—"

She cut off mid-sentence. Manic was gone. Startled, she looked around, then saw a flash of green moving at the opposite end of the road: Manic was off and running fast. He'd disappeared into the trees of the neighboring park before she could think to move after him.

Sally rounded on Dragg. "Why didn't you stop him?" she demanded.

"I'm sorry, princess," he said, sounding apologetic but not especially regretful. "I could have caught him in a heartbeat, but I think this is for the best. That kid was clearly a delinquent, you don't need to be messing around with his type."

Sally bit her tongue before she could tell him _exactly_ what was on her mind. Instead she turned and headed mutinously for the car, knowing better than to try and change what was beyond the scope of her reach.

Still, though. Why had Manic fled? Was he frightened of Dragg because he was a police officer, or for his unfriendly attitude? Or was it something _she_ had done that spooked him?

Sally folded her arms and leaned back dejectedly in her seat, trying not to worry much about the encounter. She knew she shouldn't allow one near-accident to ruin her whole evening with Bunnie and Rotor. After all, tonight was going to be the highlight of her week. She'd be with all her friends, let go of her responsibilities for a few hours, and simply _enjoy_ herself for a change. Duty be damned, just for one night.

She didn't notice until hours later—much too late—that Manic had taken her pocketbook when he ran.

* * *

**EYECATCH CARD #10**

**NAME:** Princess Sally Acorn  
******ORIGIN**: SatAM  
**AGE:** 16  
**EDUCATION:** Private tutor  
**GRADE** **LEVEL:** Sophomore  
**NATIONALITY:** Robotropolis  
**TRAITS:** Born leader—literally. Cautious, patient, aware of her surroundings. Mindful of the big picture. Looks out for the best interests of others, gets exasperated when they don't do so for themselves. Tech-savvy and quick on the uptake. Healthy sense of humor.  
**TRIVIA: **The secret credo of her royal line is "To rule with honor."

* * *

**EYECATCH CARD #11**

**NAME:** Antoine D'Coolette  
******ORIGIN**: SatAM  
**AGE:** 20  
**EDUCATION:** Central University  
**GRADE** **LEVEL:** Collegiate  
**NATIONALITY:** Robotropolis  
**TRAITS:** Loyal but cowardly. Nervous and skittish in the face of danger, real or imagined. Must be coerced into taking action. Dreams of being a hero. Talks bigger than he is, often makes the mistaking of believing himself. Traumatized by the events of his adolescence. So very French.  
**TRIVIA: **Harbored affections for Sally for many years, partially as a result of having been told during his childhood that the two of them might end up betrothed for political reasons.

* * *

**EYECATCH CARD #12**

**NAME:** Manic  
******ORIGIN**: _Sonic Underground_  
**AGE:** 15  
**EDUCATION:** Basic reading, writing, and arithmetic  
**GRADE** **LEVEL:** No formal schooling  
**NATIONALITY:** Soleanna. Maybe. Probably. He's _pretty_ sure that's the first place he remembers...  
**TRAITS:** Easygoing, smooth, skilled liar, thief. Good heart, bad impulse control. Hates being judged. Raised to hate authority.  
**TRIVIA: **Taught himself to play the drums.**  
**

* * *

**EYECATCH CARD #13**

**NAME:** Hector Dragg  
******ORIGIN**: _Sonic X_  
**AGE:** Unknown  
**EDUCATION:** Minimum requirement to become an officer of the law  
**GRADE** **LEVEL:** REAL ADULT WITH A REAL JOB  
**NATIONALITY:** United Federation  
**TRAITS:** GOTTA GO FAST  
**TRIVIA: **He holds the world record for second-fastest driving speed reached in an automobile.


	6. Calling at the Crossroads

**A/N:** For anyone confused by the geographic/ethnic descriptions I've been using, I'm basing most of my world info on the map from _Sonic Unleashed._ In that game, most named countries are analogous to (and based upon) real-world nations, though not quite identical in setting or location, i.e. "Chun-Nan" is roughly counterpart to China.

To use an example from last chapter, if I describe a character like Manic (and Sonic) as being half-white & half Chun-Nanese, readers can imagine them as being half-white, half-Chinese racially. Of course, neither Manic nor Sonic is actually _from_ Chun-Nan, being born and raised elsewhere, so NATIONALITY is still the most important factor to consider in terms of characters' origins...just like in real life.

**CHAPTER TITLE: **Calling at the Crossroads  
**CHARACTER(S):** Sonic

**NEXT WEEK:** Hey, is that creepy senior guy hitting on Amy Rose? No, whoa, hold up a sec—he's _hitting_ Amy Rose! Someone get help!

* * *

Sonic ran.

Cold, stinging wind from the mountains rushed at his face and clothes, his green eyes, his blue hair. It didn't bother the fifteen-year-old in the slightest. Tails had warned him before class started that morning (halfheartedly, as though he acknowledged his words would likely fall on deaf ears) that Sonic ought not go far today if he ran, since they had company scheduled for dinner in the evening back at the house. Sally and Antoine were coming on a visit from Central City, and naturally Vanilla wanted everyone to be there.

Sonic hadn't taken Tails's advice at its word, obviously, but he still had enough precautions lined up to feel _reasonably_ certain he wouldn't make it home too late. For one, he'd skipped his last period of class in order to get a decent head start, and he'd also left his backpack at home the way he often did, to avoid anything extra weighing him down or an unnecessary drop-off detour. Sonic knew that neither measure was likely what Tails had intended _per se_, but then, better to meet his buddy halfway than not at all, right? Antoine could be something of a pain in the _derrière_ when he wanted, Sonic knew from experience, but all the same it would be a shame to miss a chance to see Sally. Sonic would be back in time, no sweat, no questions asked. He had it covered.

Besides, the whole point of running was to avoid worrying pointlessly about the things that didn't ultimately matter. Worrying about running itself, Sonic thought with a wide grin, might make him just as crazy as old Eggman!

So far this particular afternoon, Sonic had made decent distance from the school, going by his time—he'd nearly reached the edge of Station Square already, and he didn't plan to stop outside the city. High, towering rock cliffs banked him solidly on his left, forming a jagged brown blur in the teen's peripheral vision; the metal train tracks beneath his feet were just beginning to curve inward toward an upcoming tunnel that he knew cut all the way underground through the mountain. If it was dangerous for Sonic to be running directly along the path of a city transit line like this, he didn't care. He'd always managed himself just fine in times of danger before.

Coming around the bend, Sonic saw the entrance to the darkened tunnel looming less than a hundred meters ahead of him on the tracks. He didn't slow down, instead taking the transition from bright daylight to total darkness at his usual hard run. He couldn't see in the dark of the tunnel, save for the occasional spots of dim light where an emergency lantern had been mounted overhead, but the track was familiar enough in Sonic's mind that he didn't have to see the rails to know where he was going.

Rather than pride or relief, the familiarity he had toward his surroundings made Sonic feel a spark of impatience that bordered on outright resentment. Not for the first time, he reflected that his habit of running for long hours each day, even at longer and longer distances over time, tended to really mitigate his long-term chances of finding new and unseen territories to explore. He had lived in Station Square going on three years now; that was time enough for him to see pretty much _everything_ the place had to offer within a thirty-mile radius. He was _bored_. The city had been fun at first, being a chance to finally see the mainland after a childhood spent running from one island to another, but...Station Square wasn't his home. Sonic wasn't sure he even _had_ a home, in the physical sense—the closest he could imagine was the particular _feeling_ he got sometimes, when he was right on the heels of a new adventure. It was the same feeling he had when he ran so fast that it seemed the world itself couldn't keep up, couldn't spin fast enough to keep his feet firmly planted on the ground. Nothing in Station Square approached that.

All the same, thoughts like those inevitably made Sonic feel a prickle of guilt, when he recalled any of the dozens of reasons that conspired to keep his wandering feet grounded in Station Square thus far. Vanilla and Cream themselves were the heaviest pull on his conscience: the two of them had been kind and inviting enough to open their home to Sonic and his friends for years, without any expectation of payment in return. Sonic couldn't deny that it had been _comfortable_, having a base of sorts to return to, especially the most convenient and accommodating one he could have imagined. Vanilla had been more understanding than most Federation adults, never once trying to change him from his stubborn habits. He doubted many caretakers would tolerate his coming and going as he pleased the way Vanilla had, always reminding Sonic gently (but firmly) to be careful before simply letting him be, on those occasions when he wandered in at 11 PM on a school night, or disappeared for weekends at a time to explore the coastline. Vanilla didn't fully understand Sonic or his circumstances, and she didn't pretend to, but unlike most people in her situation she never once attempted to force a meeting between their two differing worldviews—a distinction that Sonic, who hated **compromises** more than the wars they prevented, greatly appreciated.

There was also the matter of his friends. Tails and Amy really seemed to _like_ it here. Sonic knew Amy would follow him happily to the ends of the earth, if he ever chose to leave the city (whether he wanted her there or not—she'd been tailing Sonic since she was eight and he'd long since given up wondering how she managed), but that didn't change the fact that she'd finally settled in, and had made good friends here, Cream included. Tails liked Station Square for other reasons, though no less compelling: he had a space rented out near the Mystic Ruins used as a private workshop on the weekends, where he could keep the Tornado stored along with other projects he wanted to work on. There was no doubt in Sonic's mind that his young friend would willingly give it all up, follow in Sonic's footsteps the way he always had without complaint, if Sonic ever announced a desire to leave this city, but...that didn't necessarily mean Tails would be _happy_ about it.

Life had been so much simpler before he came here, Sonic thought, still running and shaking his head. It seemed bizarre put in concrete thoughts, but really, there was no denying that his life's direction had been _clearer_ while solely reliant on Doctor Eggman—there just hadn't been the same amount of thought or meditation necessary, in the old days. Back then, Tails had been the only constant in Sonic's life, his best-friend-turned-partner always running at his side, and the others had been left wandering in and out of focus between adventures without much lasting consequence. Sometimes, Sonic still wished...

These wandering thoughts abruptly ground to a halt, as he picked up from sudden changes in his surroundings that he'd run much farther in his distraction than he intended to. Sonic slowed and came to a skidding stop, finding himself at the edge of the beaten path he knew lead into the untamed jungle that lay shortly beyond the city lines—he hadn't even registered leaving behind the underground tunnel, let alone arriving at the Mystic Ruins. Sonic wasn't too far out from the train station yet, but if he wanted to make it back to Vanilla's in time to beat Sally, he ought to turn back around now.

Instead, he stayed where he was, frozen by a feeling he couldn't name. An unknown sense of disturbance had rooted his feet in place, on the line that divided the ruins' mossy grass from the jungle earth that lay ahead. Was Sonic just imagining things, or did he see a dim glow coming from inside the jungle? It was hard to be certain: the light, if it was there, was almost vanishingly faint, an uncertain specter in his distant vision...but all the same, he could feel curiosity calling out to him irresistibly. Could it be an emerald he was sensing? Rings, maybe? Or something else? His heart began to beat faster.

Without conscious thought, Sonic began to move in the direction of the light: just a few steps at first, halting and uncertain, making his way into the jungle, but then before he knew it he was jogging at regular speed. The farther he went along the path, the more distant the light seemed to grow, though he quickly became certain that _something_ was out there waiting for him to catch up. The phantom light remained just beyond the boundary of his vision, no matter his speed, but Sonic knew in his gut that he needed to keep going: the light was calling out to him, beckoning him for reasons he could hardly guess, and if he turned back now he didn't know when he might find it again.

**_Please, you must stop him!_**

_There_—out of nowhere, a voice! Dumbfounded, Sonic skidded to a stop on the path, glancing around the surrounding jungle to make sure he wasn't imagining things. The voice had been ethereal, and he hadn't heard it in his _ears_, or in his head, just—some terrified, helpless stranger's cry, coming from a place that he knew instinctively to be real yet somehow untraceable.

**_I __beg__ you!_**

There it was again! If he was imagining this, then his imagination was a whole lot better than he'd given it credit for.

Without thinking, Sonic began to run again, farther along the path, hoping that whoever or _whatever_ was calling out to him would be in the same destination as the distant light. He couldn't see his way back to the Mystic Ruins anymore, but he didn't care. Sonic wasn't one to ignore a plea for help.

"Hey! Who's out there?" he shouted loudly, not caring if sounded like an idiot calling out to imaginary voices in the jungle. "Hello? Can you hear me? Who is this!"

Before him, the light kept moving, always _just_ out of reach, forcing him to follow. He could see it now, a bright colorless glow moving ever faster to outpace him. But though Sonic could now tell that the glow had a concentrated source, he couldn't catch a glimpse of it, no matter how quickly he ran—which almost _never_ happened, not to a person with his speed. This whole thing was surreal.

**_Why? Why did this have to happen?_**

The odd phenomena wasn't stopping, so Sonic didn't either, now more determined than ever to see his newfound mystery out to the end. Moving faster and faster, he followed the phantom light down one branching jungle path after another, until he was sure he'd run at least a mile or two into canopy. He no longer cared about where the light might be taking him, or how long it would keep him running. The voice was frantic, clearly desperate about circumstances known only to it, and if Sonic didn't hurry up there was no telling what might happen before he reached it.

Finally, one winding path after countless others led somewhere different than another identical expanse of jungle: Sonic blinked, and found himself to his surprise running straight out of the thick of the trees and into a clearing. There was an enormous expanse of flat land before him, surrounded on all sides by a solid bank of trees, but at the center of the clearing was a large, magnificent temple rising from the ground. It towered over the jungle trees surrounding it, easily as tall as any of the skyscrapers in Station Square.

Sonic had to crane his neck to see to the top of the temple, and even then, he still couldn't believe his eyes. The monument was a magnificent construction, involving clay, brick, and faded paint; from the cracks spread throughout the foundation and the chunks eroded from the sides he gathered it was centuries old. Sonic could tell that whoever had built this temple had done so with reverence, paying a great deal of attention to beauty in the smallest of details: from the minute carvings engraved at intervals all the way around the outer brick wall, to the chiseled stone stairwell leading up toward the entrance, which was decorated with statues and crumbling pillars on either side.

Sonic wasn't big on old ruins or art appreciation (that was more Knuckles's bag, he thought), but all the same, he couldn't help but feel rather astounded at what he was seeing—and not much of it had to do with the design of the temple itself. What had Sonic truly confused was, _how_ could this place have been here all this time in the center of the jungle? The temple wasn't exactly _hidden_, and between the countless archeologists who flooded Station Square each year seeking remnants of a rumored lost civilization that had lived in the area, and the handful of isolated jungle folk who still inhabited, sometimes illegally, the winding forest most of their lives..._someone_ would have found this place by now if it had been here all along. Surely he couldn't be the first!

Sonic was so taken aback that he nearly failed to notice that the light he'd been chasing was now coming toward _him_, a formless brilliance that had already half-blinded him before he had a chance to realize what was going on. He tried in vain to keep his eyes open against the painful brilliance shimmering in the air above him, hoping to catch a glimpse of the unknown entity that had summoned him here...

"Who are you?" Sonic shouted upward, reaching a hand up toward the spot where the light seemed to shine brightest. "What's going on here?

**_The servers are the seven Chaos..._**

"What?" he demanded. "Servers? Chaos? What are you talking abou—"

The painful brightness disappeared. Sonic blinked, then opened his eyes.

He was back at the edge of the jungle, right at the very place he'd stared. The strange light, and the temple, were both gone, like they'd never been in front of him in the first place.

Wait. That meant that his strange encounter, the unknown voice, the light—none of it had happened at all. He must have been dreaming. Or just crazy. Sonic wondered how much he could trust his own memory, when it showed him bizarre things like this.

The encounter _hadn't_ really happened. Had it?

"Whoa," he muttered to no one, blinking again and rubbing his eyes to make sure he was still in the same place when he opened them. "Am...Am I hallucinating? What's going on here?"

Scratching his head perplexedly, Sonic found himself mercifully snapped out of his bizarre thoughts by the startling realization that his shadow stretched across the ground was _much_ longer than it was supposed to be. How long had he been standing out here?

Glancing up, he was startled to realize that the afternoon sun had already disappeared halfway behind the horizon. That meant he was late. _Very_ late. He needed to go, or risk missing Sally and Antoine's arrival at the house...or incurring his housemates' wrath.

Against Sonic's better judgment, he nonetheless glanced down the jungle path before him again. The way seemed alight with promise, secrets of mysteries to come, calling to him so strongly he could almost hear the voice inside his mind once more: **_Please._**

**_ I beg you._**

Slowly shaking his head, Sonic took one step backward, then another, then another. When he'd put a solid meter of distance between himself and the jungle, its phantom hold on his senses abruptly disappeared. He found himself suddenly able to turn about like normal, and he quickly started sprinting in the direction of the train station.

Sonic didn't deny that he still wanted to know more about what had happened—_if_ anything had actually happened, which was up for debate. He wanted to know who it was that had called out to him tonight, where it had come from, and what it wanted.

But for now, Sonic's life in the present was calling him too. And there were still things in that life that, however begrudgingly, required his immediate attention. Those familiar ties were chafing him rather close for comfort as of late, as tonight's strange circumstances had proven beyond reasonable doubt...but all the same, Sonic found himself with the sneaking suspicion that certain _interesting_ events were waiting for him on the horizon, and his friends as well.

His footsteps were already much lighter than they had been just hours ago, when he was leaving school from the first day with no real hopes of finding a new adventure. Sonic found himself grinning without trying as he ran faster, picking up speed when his feet hit the rails of the city train.

Perhaps Station Square wasn't _quite_ so stagnant a place as he had previously believed.

Only time would tell...

* * *

**EYECATCH CARD #14**

**NAME:** Sonic  
******ORIGIN**: SEGA  
**AGE:** 15  
**EDUCATION:** Station Square High School  
**GRADE** **LEVEL:** Junior  
**NATIONALITY:** Eggman Islands  
**TRAITS:** FAST, FASTER, FASTEST—GO! Easygoing, wisecracking, friendly, _lively_. Impatient and nearly always on the move. As curious as the next guy, but not big on overthinking things. Easily pleased; just as easily bored. Chronic hero, attracting trouble (and new friends) like a magnet wherever he goes.  
**TRIVIA: **Good with animals.


End file.
